I have a gold medal in puppetry. It’s not something that makes the author bio, but my years spent entertaining children taught me a lot about storytelling.

Puppets are a useful tool for teaching children, and the reason is simple. One of the best ways to learn is by watching others try and fail, try and fail, and then eventually succeed.

If you can illustrate a lesson with a silly looking character, a character that hooks the imagination of the audience, your crowd will learn while also being entertained. They’ll also remember what they learned without feeling preached at. And that’s a worthy accomplishment.

One of the best moments in any puppet show is when the audience gets involved. Imagine your kooky puppet puzzling over the solution to a problem. A solution the audience feels is painfully obvious. The kids squirm and their hands shoot up in the air. They wriggle and writhe, hoping someone will call on them. The overly anxious forego all decorum and begin to shout out answers: “Do this! No, not that, you silly puppet! THIS!”

Awesome, I tell you.

Not long ago I realized I have these same moments as I’m reading books. More than that, I began to understand that as a storyteller, I am my book’s first audience and, as such, I’m the first student to learn from the failures and successes of my characters.

Drilling a little deeper, I realized that as I give my characters obstacles and as I set about showing off their attempts to succeed, I can’t help but learn.

Among other things, I learn that taking the shortcut leaves all sorts of loose ends.

I learn that self-serving actions have a tendency to alienate a character.

I learn that failure can either isolate a hero or gather a team of helpers around them.

I learn that there are often multiple solutions to a problem.

I learn that easy answers are not at all satisfying.

I learn that scrabbling up tall, angry mountains is much more fulfilling than conquering soft, gentle hills.

I learn that not everyone will agree on the right direction.

I learn that sacrifice is often the only way forward.

When I look back at each of the books I’ve written–three currently on shelves, one that never sold, and one that will hit shelves this fall–I realize the lessons I learned while writing these stories have stayed with me and have become a part of my message to whatever audience gathers in front of me.

In my own writing I’ve found that the strongest message isn’t always what I want to say when I start a book, though that may certainly come through. The most important messages my books convey are usually the lessons I learn while writing the story. Lessons I learn alongside my characters.

My books have taught me that fear is a weapon used by so many, but if we’re not careful we can unwittingly unleash it upon ourselves. Fear can make us do horrible things, but fear only wins if we refuse to fight it.

I’ve learned that there’s nothing more inspiring that watching a terrified person ball up their fist and punch fear in the face.

I’ve learned that we weren’t meant to do this life alone. We need others. We need people.

My books have taught me that we all have a responsibility to fight for the things we believe in, and that will look different on each of us.

I’ve learned that comfort does not equal true peace. And I’ve learned that peace is not always the right course.

I’ve learned that the battles we wage in our own heads are often more vicious than the ones we fight with our fists.

And while each of these lessons are things I knew in a very cerebral way, walking the scenes with my characters taught me that each choice I made on their behalf had consequences. I learned to weigh options and to internalize beliefs I held much more lightly than I should have.

Flannery O’Conner said this:

“I write because I don’t know what I believe until I read what I say.”

And the more I write, the more I find this to be true. I’m writing stories to teach myself how to climb mountains and to solve life’s biggest problems. There are other reasons too, but this might be the most primal, the deepest reason for why I do what I do.

I have no idea how I’ll respond to the hills and valleys of my existence on this planet. Not until the waves rise up in front of me do I know if I’ll step out onto them and walk, or if I’ll let them swallow me whole.

And because I cannot possibly live all of life’s journeys in my own skin, I have a better shot of experiencing adventure and learning the lessons by writing my way in and out of them.

In this way, I’m like the children watching a puppet show. I get to laugh and cry and cheer and shout out the obvious solution. I get to be audience and storyteller.

And student. I get to learn.

Storytelling gives more than it takes only if I remember that the lessons are mine forever.

Tell me, do you learn from your own stories? Any lessons you care to share?

Shannon Dittemore is an author and speaker. Her books include the Angel Eyes trilogy, a supernatural foray into the realm of angels and demons, as well as the fantastical adventure novel Winter, White and Wicked. Its sequel, Rebel, Brave and Brutal is due out January 10, 2023.

Shannon’s stories feature strong female leads grappling with fear and faith as they venture into the wilds of the unknown. She’s often wondered if she’s writing her own quest for bravery again and again.

It’s a choice she values highly. Bravery. And she’s never more inspired than when young people ball up their fist and punch fear in the face.

To that end, Shannon takes great joy in working with young writers, both in person and online at Go Teen Writers, an instructional blog recognized by Writer’s Digest four years running as a “101 Best Websites for Writers” selection.

For more about Shannon and her books, please visit her website, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.